V for Victory
by Lady Raion
Summary: VinTi oneshot. Post-DoC. Vincent, Cid, Yuffie, Barret, and Reeve indulge in a drinking contest at Tifa's bar with an unusual prize. Beware of drunken ninjas and sneaky bartenders. Rated for Cid's mouth.


Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to Square Enix.

V for Victory

"Alright, alright! How 'bout this? Last man drinkin' gets a kiss from Tifa."

Tifa glanced up incredulously from the glasses she was setting out. It was a Sunday night, and though the bar was closed it was filled with the clamor of her friends, equally as rowdy as the rowdiest slum patrons she had ever served in the past. Cid, Reeve, and Barret were seated at the bar and Yuffie was lounging in a nearby booth. It was rare to have them all together, though they each visited her frequently with the exception of the ever-busy Reeve. They had made a point of doing so ever since Cloud had disappeared.

It had been over a year since she'd last seen the blonde. As she'd watched him climb on the Fenrir one rainy evening a few months after the Omega incident and ride away without so much as a backward glance, she'd had the irrepressible feeling that he wouldn't be coming home. She knew it wasn't anything she'd done, though it had taken a bit of effort to affirm that for herself. It had been building since the battle against Kadaj's gang. That day he had found Aerith and Zack, he'd found the forgiveness he'd never really needed, but maybe the problem was that he still needed to find himself and that wasn't something he had been able to discover in the echo of Aerith's voice. Though he had seemed so much lighter after defeating Sephiroth again, the gradually widening chasm between Cloud and Tifa eventually grew into a gap too wide to be bridged.

Tifa knew he was still out there, and at the least he was physically fine. Cloud never responded to the messages she left for him, but the deliveries continued to be made as Tifa arranged his pick-ups and drop-offs. He wasn't quite organized enough to successfully schedule things for himself. For her effort she received cash every few weeks in an envelope with no return address. Tifa, who at one time would've considered herself the most important _living_ person in Cloud's life, was suddenly relegated to the role of silent business partner.

There had been pain, of course, the kind that soaked her pillow case as she muffled sobs in the middle of the night, and there had been anger, the kind that had started as a flare of heat in her veins and ended with her trashing most of his belongings. There was still lingering resentment, maybe there always would be to some small extent, but time marched forward, people moved on, and her friends had been there for her when she needed them most.

Cid and Shera visited as often as possible, Barret made more of an effort to come home on the weekends, and Yuffie swooped in constantly to drag her off for a "girl's night out." The young ninja had gotten particularly skilled at pestering Vincent into watching the kids, though Tifa had realized some time ago that his resistance was more a ploy designed to irritate Yuffie than actual reluctance on his part. Denzel and Marlene had taken a liking to the quiet man, and though he'd never admit it she knew Vincent was equally fond of them. It was evident in the way he spoke of them when Tifa would return home and he'd linger downstairs in the bar to help her clean up whatever mess her careless assistant would miss.

But all of that was neither here nor there. She focused on the pleasant chaos that always resulted from a gathering of her friends and tried to decide if she should be flattered or weirded out at Cid's suggestion.

"Shit Cid, you a married man," Barret reprimanded.

"I'm married, I ain't dead! I can appreciate a kiss on the cheek from a pretty lady."

"And what about me?" Yuffie protested. "I don't wanna kiss Tifa!"

"Like you got Shiva's shot in hell at out drinkin' us men, pipsqueak!"

"You sexist old man!" Yuffie shoved herself to her feet and pointed a finger in Cid's direction. "I'll have you know I've been sneaking bottles of sake from my dad's collection since I was fourteen."

"What, two years ago?"

"I'm almost twenty-one, ya old codger!"

"Guys," Tifa interjected in what she knew would be a vain attempt at reason. "Aren't we a little old for drinking games?"

"Speak fer yourself, woman. Anyway, this ain't a game, it's a bet."

"So what do I get when I win?" Yuffie demanded.

"Fuck, you drink us all under the table, I'll give ya a damn airship outta my fleet."

A floorboard creaked from its spot midway up the staircase and Tifa glanced away from the bickering pair to find Vincent descending from the second floor. "Is Marlene asleep?"

He nodded and silently seated himself at the bar next to Reeve. Barret shot a glare in his direction, and Tifa sighed as she realized she'd have to assuage Barret's wounded feelings later. Normally when he was home he read to his adopted daughter as she drifted off to sleep. She was a more than competent reader on her own thanks to Tifa and the WRO's efforts to set up a school system in Edge, but it was an old tradition Barret had started when Marlene was very young, and she still enjoyed the quality time with her father. Lately, however, her favorite pre-bedtime activity was listening to Vincent tell her stories. "He always tells the scariest stories!" Marlene would relate enthusiastically. Tifa worried that the girl was developing this tilt toward the morbid, but perhaps with the sort of things the child had lived through it was to be expected.

"Heya, Vince!" Cid slapped a hand down on Vincent's shoulder and she watched the dark-haired man flinch slightly at the unexpected contact.

"Good evening, Cid," he returned, the vaguest light of annoyance flickering in the red depths of his eyes.

It was easier for Tifa to read him since he'd finally quit wearing that raggedy red cloak, as if the heavy garment had lent such an air of mystery to the already mysterious man that it had rendered him utterly inscrutable. She liked him better without it, anyway. He seemed lighter without the burden of it on his shoulders, and it left the bottom half of his face exposed. Tifa had rather grown to like looking at the bottom half of his face. Specifically his mouth. It made her... curious.

"Do you want a drink, Vincent?" Tifa asked, even as she pulled another glass from beneath the bar. "My crew of teenagers over here has a bet going about who can hold their liquor the best."

"Ha!" Cid barked his laughed and slapped his hand against Vincent's shoulder again. "Like Beanpole here can out drink me."

"Can you become inebriated now that Chaos has been expelled from your body?" Reeve questioned.

Vincent narrowed his eyes at Cid in an expression of obvious challenge. "I suppose we shall see."

Tifa carefully carried five glasses to the counter by the sink. Normally she would have filled them up right at the bar, but she was hoping her actions would be shielded by her back as she watered down Yuffie's drink. She didn't want the over-enthusiastic ninja getting alcohol poisoning while trying to keep up with the guys.

What occurred from that point onward was the gradual devolution of humanity, a process she'd seen repeatedly over the years played out once again through her closest friends. Despite Tifa's efforts, Yuffie was hit hard and fast. An hour or so after the first round had been served, Yuffie was hobbling over to Cid on unsteady legs and throwing her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"Hey, Cid." She poked at his whiskered cheek. "Heeeeeey. You know... you know something?" Another poke. "Do you?"

"Get the hell offa me, brat!"

"No, silly! Can you keep a secret?" She leaned into his ear and made an exaggeratedly loud "shhhhh" sound that had Cid jerking out of his chair. Whiskey sloshed over the rim of his glass and several expletives exploded from his lips before Yuffie clamped a hand over his mouth. "Noooo! You gotta be quiet. 'Cause see... listen. Listen." She released his mouth to tug at the edges of his ears for emphasis, prompting a plume of cigarette smoke carried on the flurry of new obscenities. "I love you. Like, love you, you know? Like a... grumpy grandpa. And I love you, Tifa!" she jabbed a finger over the counter at the amused bartender "I always wanted to be a... whatcha callit?" Tifa merely lifted an eyebrow in confusion at the ninja's slurred verbal musings. "A pirate!"

And then she was abruptly draping herself over Vincent's shoulders. "Arrrrrg!" Yuffie growled out her best impersonation of a pirate. "When I get-when I get my," she paused to unleash a loud burp. Vincent's eyes silently pled with Tifa for help, but she could do nothing but giggle at his plight. "Flying thing. The airship. Yeah. When I win it I'm gonna-gonna be a-a... pirate! Sky pirate, arrrrrg!"

"Yuffie, could you please-"

Small hands tangled in his hair. "Your hair is soooo pretty!" She tugged, then poked his forehead with a finger. "You know something? Do you know it?" Another poke. Vincent's fingers twitched and Tifa was thankful he'd disarmed himself before tucking Marlene into bed. "When you had that, you know, that thing? Right here? On your head? The wrappy red thing, right? Guess what? You looked like a pirate! Arrrrg, matey!" Yuffie squeezed his shoulders. "You're kinda cute. You can be my first mate," she said as she held two fingers in front of his face. "Errr, no." One finger went down. "First! We'll call it, you and me, we're gonna call it... Yuffincent... Yuff... Kisaragincent... Oh! No, no. No. I got it. I'm a genius. You and me, we're gonna raid booty on the S.S. Yuffentine!"

Vincent had long since gone from looking annoyed to looking appropriately horrified. Tifa and Reeve were trying, rather unsuccessfully, to hold in their laughter while Barret openly howled and Cid had slipped off his stool with body wracking guffaws.

"There'll be materia everywhere. Mountains! Arrrrrg! Practice, Vinnie! Arrr-" A hitching wet croak cut her off mid-growl and she finally relinquished her hold on Vincent to wrap an arm around her middle.

"For fuck's sake kid, if you're gonna blow chunks go do it in the damn toilet!" Cid ordered as he settled back on to his stool.

Yuffie, her face tinted an unusual and sickly green, nodded and took off with flailing limbs down the hall toward the bathroom. Evidently the S.S. Yuffentine would not be sailing any time soon.

"I knew Short-stack couldn't hold her fuckin' booze," Cid sneered around a cigarette.

From down the hall, "Fuck you, old ma- urk!"

Tifa cringed. It seemed her effort to help Yuffie hadn't amounted to much. While Cid made jokes at the wanna-be pirate's expense, Tifa carried the empty glasses back to the sink and refilled them. As soon as she placed one in front of Reeve she realized the man was looking a few shades pale of healthy himself.

"Weak stomach?" Tifa guessed.

He nodded and slid from the stool. "I think I should turn in, anyway. I've had quite enough already."

"Yeah, yeah, quitter!" Cid jeered. "Go play with your pus-"

"Cid!" Tifa smacked the vulgar blonde upside his head.

"Whaaaaaat? I'm jus sayin' he plays with stuffed kitties all day." Cid chuckled and opened his mouth for another comment.

"I don't find it funny," Tifa scolded before he could speak. "Don't make me tell Shera on you."

"Err... yes'm."

"Somebody's whipped," Barret rumbled in amusement.

Tifa heaved a sigh at her gaggle of overgrown children, but her lips were pulled into a smile, even as she took a moment to wipe the counter of stray ashes. While Cid and Barret exchanged good-natured jibes, Tifa slipped to the other end of the counter where Vincent was quietly swirling the amber liquid in his glass before sipping it. Tifa bit her lip, hesitated for a moment of rapid mental deliberation, then carefully reached over and smoothed down the hair that Yuffie had ruffled.

"How are we doing?" she wondered softly.

"I'm developing a headache, I believe."

"From the alcohol or from Yuffie?"

"Impossible to tell. Likely both."

"If you lose Cid will never let you hear the end of it," Tifa pointed out. She tried to tell herself that she was joking rather than goading, and smiled at him as if to prove it.

"I never said anything about losing." He set his glass on the bar and pinned her with a stare that said much in a language Tifa couldn't read. The only thing that she could plainly understand was the pointed intensity written there that demanded every bit of her attention. "I do not allow victory to slip through my fingers so easily. Not when there is something I want to win."

Tifa fought the flush threatening to color her cheeks as she inquired, "What do you want to win?"

"Bragging rights, of course."

There was an awkward moment of silence as Tifa's train of thought crashed rather abruptly into Vincent's unexpected answer. It wasn't exactly what she'd wanted to hear but then, what _had_ she expected? He hadn't even been in the room when Cid had laid down the conditions for the stupid bet. Any deeper meaning she'd believed to be hiding in Vincent's eyes had likely been imagined. It wasn't the first time she'd gotten caught up in misguided thoughts that he was about to make some sort of move on her, after all.

In an attempt to salvage their chat and disguise her reaction Tifa offered a smile and said the first innocuous thing that came to mind. "Thank you for tucking Marlene in. She really adores you."

Vincent fell back into the flow of conversation without a single prodding question. She'd always liked the fact that he would overlook her brain farts. With a slightly pained expression he said, "She keeps asking to braid my hair."

"I don't know, it might be a good look for you," she laughed. "But seriously, you've been a big help over the past year. I really appreciate it."

He shook his head. "Marlene and Denzel are hardly any trouble. You've raised them well."

"Thank you!" She allowed a satisfied blush at that, and before she could think better of it found herself blurting out, "You should really move closer so you can drop in more often. The kids would really love it," she hastened to add.

After the Omega Incident, or the "third sign of the impending apocalypse" as one of Edge's more sensationalist newspapers had called it, Vincent had finally settled himself into a permanent residence in Kalm. Close enough to his friends to be there when needed, but far enough away to maintain the distance he was comfortable with. Slowly he'd built something of a normal life for himself. Tifa was proud of him, as well as profoundly pleased that he'd finally found some kind of peace with himself.

The tranquility of Kalm was likely more attractive to Vincent than the noisy bustle of Edge, but she still wished he'd consider a move. He might be inclined to visit more often and without purpose if he didn't have to drive hours to reach the Seventh Heaven. As much as she enjoyed the stolen hour or so she shared with him here and there after returning from her escapades with Yuffie, she wanted more time with him.

"Do you know of any available apartments?"

Before Tifa could decide if he was serious or toying with her, Cid interrupted.

"Hey, what the fuck you guys talkin' so serious 'bout over there?"

Tifa pushed herself away from the bar and watched out of the corner of her eye as Vincent downed the rest of his whiskey in a bid to keep up with the other two men.

"Barret, did you know Marlene has an admirer at school? He's been handing her the cutest little love notes."

"Aww, hell," Barret mumbled. He shook his head as he slipped off his stool. "Don't wanna think 'bout her gettin' into that shit now. I gotta get to bed. Promised the kids I'd take 'em to th' park after school."

"So yer givin' up too?" Cid demanded. "Shit, ain't no competition goin' up against you, Slim," he gestured at Vincent with his glass. "I'll win the prize and I'm the only man here can't really enjoy it."

Vincent lifted a brow at this, but to Tifa's relief he didn't ask what the pilot meant. She swiped two empty glasses off the counter and carried them to the space beside the sink to refill them while Cid started talking about Shera's pregnancy scare. "Scare" being Cid's particular word choice regarding the matter.

An hour later, Cid was facedown on the bar. It had caught up with him and taken him down rather abruptly. Tifa eased the stub of smoking cigarette from between the captain's fingers and crushed the burning end into the overflowing ashtray.

"Well, that's that," Tifa announced as she wandered back to Vincent's seat. The man was still sitting upright and perfectly coherent, if a bit sleepy. "This makes you the winner."

Vincent stood and began cleaning up Cid's ashen mess while Tifa turned her attention to cleaning the remaining glasses.

"Just as well. I should be going soon. I have a number of important errands to run tomorrow."

Tifa paused in her chore and studied Vincent incredulously over her shoulder. He was far too responsible a man to drive drunk, she was certain of that. "You aren't drunk at all, are you? Not even tipsy. But if you had important things to do tomorrow why did you..." She turned around to face him fully and her eyes narrowed on him. "You _knew_ you wouldn't get drunk."

He shrugged. "I certainly feel more human than I did before, and I believe I may have begun to age again, but my body is still far from normal."

Tifa leaned against the counter behind her. "But if you knew you couldn't get drunk, why did you play along?"

Vincent smirked, eyes sparking with amusement. "Why have you been watering down my drinks all evening?"

Tifa blinked, rendered momentarily thoughtless until at last her brain kicked into overdrive in a desperate scramble for an answer. "I didn't know that you were still immune to the effects of alcohol, and I didn't want it to hit you too hard. I did the same thing for Yuffie." Tifa might've felt pleased with herself for such a well executed excuse, but beneath his intense scrutiny she almost felt that he could read her mind.

Indeed, he seemed to read something from her expression as that spark of mirth caught and burned into something that caused her skin to heat as though his gaze was the caress of fire. He took two steps closer, though for all the self-satisfaction on his face they were hesitant ones, and then he was as close to her as he could be without trampling important boundaries.

"Funny," he murmured as his hand came to rest on the counter by her hip. "I've never seen anyone appear so guilty for aiding a friend."

"I-I don't know what you mean."

"If I am the winner, then this prize Cid alluded to is mine to claim, is it not?"

This was exactly what Tifa had secretly been hoping for all evening, but now that the moment had arrived she wasn't quite sure what to do. For all the confidence she wielded in most aspects of her life, it seemed she had little to spare when it came to men. Should she jokingly inform him of the terms Cid had set during his absence and hope he took the suggestion seriously? And he had participated in the bet knowing that he would win...

"Another advantage of having an abnormal body is the stealth that I am graced with. I can go anywhere, linger at the top of the stairs for instance, and no one will hear me or notice me there unless I want them to."

"So you heard...?"

He nodded. "We both rigged this bet to achieve this very outcome."

Tifa dragged a deep gulp of air into her lungs to help steady her nerves. "Be that as it may, you don't get to claim any prizes tonight."

Confusion and doubt flickered across his face and he prepared to back away from her. She grabbed the collar of his shirt before he could get far and pulled him closer. Another deep breath was drawn for courage.

"I get to claim _my_ prize."

And before she could think better of it, she was kissing him. Her nervousness made her clumsy at first, so that their lips met with too much force, but then it softened to something slow and almost teasing, languorous movements that hinted at a yearning for something deeper. When they parted he briefly tugged her bottom lip between his and her knees experienced a moment of uncooperative weakness. Her hand fell from his shirt and curled around the counter's edge as she restrained herself from pulling him close and tasting him intimately.

"Why?" he asked quietly.

Tifa nearly rolled her eyes. "I could ask you the same question. Why does anyone want to kiss someone? Besides, I was curious."

"Is your curiosity fulfilled?"

Her eyes flickered to his lips again, then down his body. "Partially."

The chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest made her feel almost as warm as his kiss had, and she could do nothing but smile at him. She didn't know where this would go. She wasn't even really sure what had just happened. But it was something, and the doors it opened up were exciting.

"Do you think you could stay just a little later and help me clean up?"

"Everything looks clean."

"Well, there's still the matter of Cid passed out at the bar, and I think I heard Yuffie go down somewhere in the hallway."

Vincent stepped back and nodded. "I can help you carry them to a bed."

"That's not what I had in mind, actually. See, I have this silky purple dress I think I could just manage to squeeze Cid into, along with a blonde wig that would look lovely on him. I also have some black markers, if you'd like to commit mutiny on your pirate captain's face."

The corners of Vincent's lips lifted in a smile and Tifa felt her breath catch. The man didn't smile nearly enough. "I admire the way your mind works. I never thought the camera function on my phone would ever be useful."

* * *

Note: Heh, trying my had at something new again. I'm not sure about the title. I kind of suck at titles. Anyway, I feel like this was all over the place, but I had fun writing it. Yuffie is the first drunk I've ever written, so hopely I didn't botch it too badly. Also, no offense toward any Yuffentine shippers that might be reading this for inexplicable reasons. Okay. I think I'm done with this unnecessary author's note. Hope you guys enjoyed!


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